


Adrenaline

by AgenderMaine (AngelusErrare)



Series: Falling Towards The Feels [3]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Character Death, Minor Character
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-23
Updated: 2016-06-23
Packaged: 2018-07-16 20:48:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 656
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7284220
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AngelusErrare/pseuds/AgenderMaine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p></p><div class="center">
  <p><br/><i>"You can beat Virginia til she's down on the floor."</i><br/>Jeff Williams, "On Your Knees" (Season 9 soundtrack)</p>
</div>
            </blockquote>





	Adrenaline

This isn't how she thought she would die.

The way the "training" vids show adrenaline, the way sim-troops think of it? Forget it. There is no superhuman strength, no sudden rush of energy, no easy ticket to winning a fight.

Her legs will barely hold her any more and her arms won't stop shaking. Her vision is blurry, and the little voice in the back of her head is screaming to run. _That's_ adrenaline. Adrenaline isn't your body's secret weapon-- adrenaline is what gets you killed in a fight that, dammit, you should have been able to win easily.

Did the Director know it was a trap?

She doesn't let herself dwell on that thought, focusing instead on just staying on her feet, trying to find a way to get out of this mess. Suit abilities are out; only the top ten on that damned scoreboard get anything decent, and she falls in low at number sixteen. Her voice filter? Absolutely useless right now. Why couldn't they have given her healing?

By some stroke of luck, the Insurrectionist soldiers haven't approached to finish her off yet. Chances are, they're waiting for an order.

Her plasma pistols are twenty meters behind her, and not for the first time, she resents Carolina-- or rather, her speed mod. That would at least give her a chance. But the Counselor said her body couldn't handle the stress, that she needed to train more, maybe work her way up the scoreboard, and they'd give her a more "physical" mod. Yeah. Like they ever planned to give her a real mod.

"Agent Virginia, isn't it?"

Her vision throbs in time with her pulse as she turns toward the sound, right knee almost giving out in the process. 

"Sorry, buddy, I don't think we've met before." She's too exhausted, in too much pain to put much of a bite into the words, and disappointment washes over her at the weakness she hears in her own voice. Still, he shouldn't know her name. Too bad she won't be able to report this.

" _We_ haven't, but you've caused quite a bit of trouble for my men. Up until now."

 _His men._ The Director didn't know what was waiting, then. If he had known there was a chance to capture the leader of the Insurrection, he wouldn't have sent her. Carolina would be here. Maine would be here. The big guns.

Not her.

"Can't say I'm sorry," Virginia mutters, letting out a shaky sigh. She can't feel her fingers any longer. Can't even feel the wound they're pressed against, the gaping hole in the right side of her crimson armor. The trembling of her limbs now speaks more of blood loss than adrenaline. Her vision pulses in time to the blood oozing over her armored hands, and her helmet feels unbearably heavy.

When he steps close and kicks her square in the chest, her legs finally collapse out from under her; the jolt through her body sets everything throbbing, and her hands slip from her wounded side. Unhindered, the blood flows down from the hole, dribbles over her thigh and between the creases of her armor and slowly pools on the concrete.

If only the distress/recovery beacons could be activated _before_ an Agent's death. She might have had some chance then.

The man in front of her wears red armor too. Everything is red now. The floor, the walls, the previously steel-grey soldiers. He probably isn't really red. Maybe he's pink.

She doesn't want to, but she smiles.

She's still smiling when his annoyed voice filters through her foggy mind. "If you were, this might have been different."

She's still smiling when he raises the muzzle of his battle rifle until it is level with her forehead.

For a brief second before everything goes black, Virginia laughs. A split second chuckle overlapped by the sound of metal sliding on metal as he pulls the trigger.


End file.
